Lies From the Tablecloth
by Hey Lady Hey
Summary: Edgeworth confronts Gant about evidence and lies perhaps for the last time. Right before the fifth case. No pairings.


Lies From the Tablecloth

Rating: PG

Edgeworth confronts Gant about evidence and lies- perhaps for the last time. Right before the fifth case.

**(Anybody up for a roleplay over AIM? IM: bobthepaperroll )**

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Gant didn't like to be startled. It made his eyes wide and his back stiffen uncomfortably, which reminded him of weakness, inevitable old age and his eventual demise. It wasn't just the fact there was a bit of physical pain thrown into it, but being startled caught him off guard. There was one thing the Chief of Police detested, and that was being caught off-guard with nothing to say and his shoulders hunched because a certain man just loudly banged his office door open.

Who even had the courage to do that? Very few people.

But Edgeworth was one. And his emotions were so far gone with his brain that common sense had been forgotten at the bus stop and emotion pushed logic out of the window on route I-95.

"God _damnit, _Gant!"

The Chief of Police grit his teeth under a tight-lipped smile. He had been at his desk when the infuriated prosecutor barged into his room, and he was now aching from the way his body had spasm from the sudden surprise. Even as a very fit sixty-five year old man, he still had his old age against him.

"You seem angry, Worthy. Care to tell?" He said, his voice surgery sweet and dripping with honey. Poisoned honey. He knew Edgeworth was a bright enough man to realize a good deal of his tricks, to realize that his happiness was a fake act that was plastered on in a hurried manner. He had been caught off guard. _Off guard._

"The evidence- you falsified it!" Edgeworth snarled, his bangs falling in front of his fiery gray eyes. He pushed them angrily away, staring with pure contempt at the Chief of Police. Gant smiled widely back, a smile that spread slowly as he stared at the other.

The Prosecutor fell quiet, his body shaking from built up tension, as he was absorbed into those eyes. They stared at each other for a good minute, before Edgeworth spoke in a quiet, scathing tone:

"You ruined my reputation. You falsified that evidence. I sent a man to his death."

He had regained his composure that had been lost initially. Gant clapped, the sharp sound of leather gloves making Mile's wince slightly. "Oh, ho! Worthy... Worthy... you know more then anybody, I would never do that-"

"I have _evidence_." He hissed, stepping forward and looming over Gant's oval table, one hand on the polished wood. Papers were ripped from his back pocket, and he waved the crumpled sheets in front of Gant's face. "Proof, that you cheated me- the Judge, the attorney, and the victim from a fair trial." He said, his voice holding a tone of victory. It was evident in his eyes. So very stupid, Gant thought, because in such a time when he was fragile, he could not guard the most easiest mirror into his soul.

Gant roughly pushed the papers away from his face, frowning. "I think, Edgeworth, that you should watch what you're doing." His voice was dead serious, dead, dead serious, and his heavy green eyes showed that this was not playtime anymore.

Edgeworth titled his head, a slight grin on his face. He was still shaking. From the anger and the sadness and the desperation of it all. "Oh, am I, Gant?"

"Put those papers down-"

"You've _ruined me_, Gant-!"

"Lower your voice-"

"I sent a man to his death! His death-"

Edgeworth, in his fit of screaming near hysterically, did not notice the careful movement of Gant's arm. He had leaned slightly to the left, opening one of the drawers in the desk, his gloved hand easily wrapping around what he had needed. It was pulled smoothly out from behind a box of sharpies, pointing at the Prosecutor. The gun gave a little click as Gant's thumb pulled back the load, his forefinger on the trigger of the hand revolver.

"I said 'Put those papers down'. Or didn't you hear me?" He said with a smile, as if nothing had ever happened. Poor Edgeworth looked terribly shaken, gazing at the gun as if out of the barrel would come death itself.

(It would if he didn't play his cards right.)

He placed the papers down, his eyes still on the gun, looking over at the Chief of Police. He grit his teeth. "I don't know why, Gant..." He smiled faintly at the revolver; "You depend on our protection, yet you feed us these lies from the tablecloth?"

"Do you know why, Worthy? Why I really did it?" He asked, his voice too cheerful for Mile's taste.

"No, I don't." He answered truthfully. He had no reason to lie with death at the beck and call of Damon Gant.

Gant smiled a little wider, waving the gun at him. "Then, I suppose this will go nowhere, will it now?" He took the papers in one hand, easily crumbling them into a ball and tossing it into a nearby wastebasket. Edgeworth grit his teeth, watching the paper quietly. He was snapped out of his staring when the pressure of the muzzle of the gun pressed against his chest. He looked up at Gant, trying to hide his nervousness.

Edgeworth was a master of emotions. Sadly, he was in the presence of a god.

Gant smiled a bit wider. "I'll see you later, Worthy. Or should I say, Un-Worthy?"

The prosecutor was deathly silent. He looked down at the gun, straightened his cravat so that it tightened around his neck, before turning on his heel. He walked evenly to the door, sure that the gun was still trained on him. He could nearly feel a bullet hit him in the back, as he opened the door gently.

He turned to look at Gant. Yes, the gun was still pointed at him. He smiled thinly.

"This is my two weeks notice."

And he left.

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Gant adjusted his collar, kicking his feet up on his desk. Normally, he wouldn't soil his desk in this way, but he was feeling awfully proud of himself. He had duped smarter, sure, but his little charade was so easily pulled off he nearly believed in it.

He held the gun up, squeezing the trigger. Click. Click. Idly spinning the empty revolver in his hands, he placed it back in his desk, whistling to himself.

"You've done yourself good, Damon." He said cheerfully. "You still got it."

Not like he ever doubted himself. He was Damon Gant, and you could never catch _him_ off-guard.

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I just wrote this... quickly. It didn't take long, not beta-tested. I hid a SOAD quote in here, haha, yeah, so internets if you can find it and name the song it comes from. But, any who... really like the ending of this fanfiction. I could see such a bastard doing something like this. He's such a huge frikken gorilla anyway; he could just clobber you with the gun. XD Just a head's up, if anybody likes roleplaying over AIM, or ever email, IM me at bobthepaperroll for a Phoenix Wright roleplay.


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